Typed up a bit of material on this one while lamenting my dissociation from TWCH, though I also have a slight cushion prepared for that story as well that I've to sift through. I'm eager to explore this avenue for the Apparitions and I hope you all find something to enjoy about it. : )
EDIT: Corrected dates and times because my math blows. 1975 has become 1976.
ONE
Arlington, Florida
October 17, 2012
Aomine strolled the halls, eyes searching for his destination. The schedule printout folded in half in his hand told him his first period class was held in room 219. And he hadn't a clue how to find it. He wasn't an idiot. The syndication of cardinal numbers reached into the Japanese school system, which he'd been mentored under up until half of his last year of high school.
Not a time he remembered fondly.
The problem came from, what he decided, the American's poor method of organization. He'd scoured two wings of his new academic home, Arlington High School, for the last ten minutes and had yet to breach past one hundred and thirty. Where were the double-digit classrooms?
He hadn't seen any so far. If he didn't get his ass in gear, he'd be late. Ordinarily, tardiness was not a concern. But in this place, encouraging any unnecessary attention was critical if Aomine was to endure his time here.
He stopped beside a glass-encased bulletin board, boasting a plethora of announcements on vibrant paper, none of which he could understand, and thought back to that day just a week ago.
When the Kaizer allowed his displacement from Casimir.
The Tercentenary ball had a huge turnout, which was to be expected. A celebration dedicated to honoring the paragons that created an untold number of Apparitions. Ones like Aomine. His invitation, though warranted, was something he hadn't planned on accepting. Yet the Kaizer insisted, and so he appeared.
The ballroom was clogged with all manner of races, one of few times the Apparition kingdoms gathered, forgetting current relationships for a single night in the name of indentured gratitude. From his perch near a towering clerestory window, where lukewarm moonlight filtered in unhampered by shears or curtains, he observed the assembly. A patchwork of golds, reds, greens, and blues, all decked in regal ensembles. Refined but not majestic.
Aomine'd chosen to attire otherwise, donning his Bureau uniform. A pale blue shirt, brown tie, and navy slacks, complete with a collared windbreaker matching his bottoms. Molniya's insignia—a forked lightning bolt encircled by a pair of rings inscribed with the Russian lettering МОЛНИ—blazed above his breast pocket, sandwiching his nametag.
Against protocol, he had yet to meet with Molniya. Law enforcement officers like himself were required an audience with their paragon. Yet Molniya was forever occupied. He believed other circumstances took priority but he wasn't all that eager, anyway.
Curious, though, no doubt about that.
He combed the shifting wall of people for gawkers orbiting an unfamiliar face. Though he reasoned with himself that, realistically, had the ever elusive Molniya shown up the ball attendees would have made a scene about it. The other paragons had performed their dutiful shuffle around the ballroom to address their national leaders. Aomine'd witnessed the procession from within the throng, not obligated to ingratiate himself with Terra, Aéras, Kōri, or Schatten and merely observed the parade. Once they disbanded, Aomine had retreated to the other side of the room, hoping to avoid a run-in with Schatten, though he doubted he'd escaped the Shadow paragons' eyes. He was not yet ready for that reunion.
"I think this may be the largest outcome to date," a new voice said beside him.
Aomine jolted at the slackened hazy tone and straightened, facing a man half a head smaller than him, dark shaggy hair dressed neatly. Narrow eyes gleamed beneath a pair of glasses, the mouth crooked in a wry smile. Silver chevrons shouted authority on the lapels of a distinguished sport jacket.
His humble employer and a royal pain in the ass.
Commissioner Imayoshi Shouichi.
"Probably all that Pyros hype," he said, maintaining attention.
Imayoshi chuckled and flicked his hand. "At ease, Daiki."
He unhinged his shoulders and folded his arms, eyes finding the swaying crowd again. Voices intermingled with the soft chorus of strings belting a melodious tune opposite them.
A comfortable silence hung.
The company was tolerable but the joviality of celebration was lost on him.
What did he have to celebrate, given all that had transpired?
"The Kaizer was very impressed with your work, I heard."
He resisted snorting. "Hard not to be impressed when you shove my achievements under his nose."
"Diligence is to be recognized."
This time he did snort. "Don't get soft on me, now. We both know you're wiser than that. Hard work doesn't always pay off and you don't earn pats on the back for doing as you're expected."
"Laudatory achievements come in many forms."
He noticed the suggestive tone to the commissioner's voice and debated grabbing the bait.
Imayoshi reached out a finger and tapped a badge pinned to his right breast. "Physical statements and promotions aren't the only gestures of appreciation."
He wasn't going to let Imayoshi prey on his mind, so he said, "What are you getting at?"
"Your penance has been satisfied," Imayoshi said. "A while ago, I think. How long have you worked with us?"
He assumed the commissioner meant to exclude his internship and part-time work in high school. "Six years. Why is this important?"
"The Kaizer and I have spoken at length about you."
A cold feeling flooded his chest. This would either be beneficial or harmful.
"Daiki," Imayoshi sighed. "It was so long ago and you served out your punishment. Your return to the Bureau expedited your success and earned you a healthy promotion. We believe you deserve a reward for your efforts."
He didn't know what to say. In the past he'd shared conferences with the Kaizer over sensitive legal matters and the associations had always been curt and confined to business, always a solid line between government worker and government leader. To know the Kaizer desired repaying him for his services was more jarring than he would have predicted.
Imayoshi's brow scrunched curiously, clearly awaiting a response.
Aomine cleared his throat, arms falling to his sides. "So, hypothetically,"—Why was he challenging their charity?—"this reward. What did you two decide?"
The commissioner smiled. "A reassignment. Suspension of your duties within the Bureau to pursue any engagement, anywhere."
To say he was surprised would be an understatement. And the disbelief brought a reassuring expression to Imayoshi's face.
Which, strangely, abated nothing.
"A one hundred percent serious offer."
His face dropped into his hands and a heavy breath left him as he processed the possibilities.
Imayoshi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and, after steeling himself, Aomine lifted his head.
"No restrictions?" he asked.
"None."
He had an idea, one that had lurked in the back of his mind for the last thirty-six years. And however juvenile it may be, he wanted it.
But that wasn't why he decided to voice it.
"I'd like to finish high school," he said.
Imayoshi laughed, a hand shooting to cover the sound. Once he composed himself, he said, "So my earlier disclaimer may be false."
He glared.
"Don't worry." Again with the hand flick. "I admit that I foresaw this outcome and it actually works in both your favor and ours."
His stare hardened, knowing exactly who ours was. "Hard to enjoy my vacation if I have homework, sensei."
"Not homework. The assignment is not only yours. Every investigator and officer is handling the matter."
Then it hit him. "Pyros."
Imayoshi nodded. "Molniya's probes assured us that a relevant signature exists in the United States. In the southern state of Florida. Attend any school you like and while you embrace academia, look into any clues you find that may lead to narrowing down the identity of Pyros. No deadlines, no checking in. Think of it as extra credit."
He couldn't lie, it was an enticing reward.
There was no question as to his response.
"I'll take it," he said. "Thank you both."
"She would have wanted this for you."
Yes, she would have.
Imayoshi bowed his head and patted his shoulder. "The Kaizer and I will discuss the particulars and brief you." He stepped away, walking backwards, and fanned an arm out at the ballroom. "Until then, let loose. Enjoy yourself."
Making the decision to continue his education overseas had been easy. Not understanding a lick of English? That was something he'd deferred concern for.
What a moron.
He slumped against the bulletin board casing and crossed his feet, eyes tracing the paper. No way was he finding this place without consulting another student, a passing faculty member, or a patrolling officer.
That was a mind-boggling idiosyncrasy of the American education system that he opted not to understand. Where there were badges and uniforms resided a potential threat to be neutralized.
He fished into his pocket for his cell phone, a replacement that was compatible with America's mobile network, and checked the display for the time.
8:00 AM.
According to the schedule, first period had been in session for ten minutes.
He groaned and dropped his head to the glass.
"Hey."
A voice from behind.
He glanced over his shoulder to see a student approaching and from the look of him he'd managed to piss someone off this morning. At least if Aomine was going by the crumpled shirt and swelling around the left eye and cheek. The newcomer was a tad shorter, his face betraying Asian descent that starkly contrasted to the tight corded braids he sported. What were they called again? Cornrows? What the hell kind of resemblance was there between hair and corn? A set of two silver earrings hugged each ear. Peeking under the hem of a long graphic tee was a revolver belt buckle that anchored knee-torn jeans too far low for Aomine to consider useful. He wondered how the kid swaggered over without them falling.
His hesitation tightened Cornrow's brows impatiently.
"What's a matter, newb? You lost?"
He understood nothing but heard the mockery and smartly deflected it. He flashed the schedule.
"Are you deaf? I asked you a question."
Still he could not reply. Though it was clear that Cornrows was picking a fight.
Why didn't matter and Aomine hoped that if he ignored him, the prick would walk away.
Steely eyes glowed with enlightenment and Cornrows barked a laugh. "Oh, I get it. I got a better look at you now. Real sunbaked for an Asian, darkie. Didn't think they were capable of breeding other monsters out there. Not gonna lie, I almost took you for a black kid."
The influx of English was starting to aggravate him. So he searched his mind for a terse response to transmit the fact that he couldn't communicate. He thought back to his English lessons in Japan and was disturbed at his poor retention. All that tutoring with Tetsu and Satsuki. Essentially meaningless.
"Go away," he said.
Only it came out as guh ah-way. And with his baritone, it sounded pitiful.
Cornrows exploded in laughter. "Oh, my god. No way."
Aomine scowled, clenching the schedule hard.
"You expect to learn English and become an upstanding tax-evading immigrant?" Cornrows said after the brunt of his hilarity had waned. "Maybe you're one of those pathetic nerds. Give me that." He snatched the folded page from Aomine's hand.
"What the hell," he snapped, tongue reverting to his vernacular.
He took a step closer and the paper was reeled out of reach. The hand pushed to his chest stirred his anger. A cocky grin set it to a fierce boil.
"What're you gonna do, cry?"
More of middle school came back to him. "That is mine."
His botched pronunciation provoked Cornrows into another fit that was more screeching than laughing.
Enough of this. Detective or not, this punk ran out of chances.
He stretched for the schedule again and Cornrows slid it behind his back.
"Go back to your island, Yao Ming."
Aomine didn't hesitate.
He swung his right arm across his chest and viciously backhanded Cornrows.
His adversary whipped around, releasing the page as he plummeted to the floor.
The prize was retrieved after a moment, where he allowed his heart to calm. Cornrows remained still but feeble nasal inhaling told him he'd knocked the kid out. Though he was certain, he toed the boy's leg anyway and Cornrows groaned.
Good enough for him.
An officer entered the hall, carrying a metallic jingle with her steps, and paused, surveying the scene.
Okay, not so good.
He displayed his hands in surrender.
Her dark aging face tightened in scorn and she reached for her belt as she skated close. "You stay there."
The tone and dutiful march were received and he remained still.
From her waist came a handheld radio that she brought to her mouth as she examined Cornrows. She presumably apprised the recipient on the other side of the channel of the situation and stood. The device was reattached to the belt and she grasped his arm.
Then she led him away from the scene, grip firm in a way he was familiar to exercising himself, and said, "You're in a lot of trouble."
Imayoshi would harangue him for this.
Good thing he didn't have to check in.